The Tigers Come at Night
by Inspector Karamazov
Summary: Fantine, as a prostitute, meets with Tholomyes, who does not appear to recognize her.


She saw him in the park. He was dressed in a smart black tail-coat and deep blue top hat. His waistcoat, though, was orange. Why was it orange? Fantine could not imagine what would possesses someone to own an orange waistcoat.

She kept her head down, hoping that the man would not see her. What was he doing here of all places? She had thought that she could escape his memory here. Keeping her head down, she began to walk as quickly as she could in the opposite direction.

It was too late. The man had seen her.

"Well, hello there, my dear." he rested a hand on her shoulder.

Fantine spun around to face him, but kept her eyes on the ground.

"Look up. I want to see." He took her face in his hands and tilted it up.

"Good day, M'suer." She smiled, revealing her missing top teeth.

He seemed a bit taken aback, but didn't falter.

"What's the price, my dear?"

Fantine blinked. Was it possible that he didn't recognize her? She looked quite different, she supposed, with chopped hair and no front teeth, but was her face really that different?

"That depends on how you want it," she said seductively. Lately, she'd been good at saying things seductively.

He smiled crookedly. He'd always had a crooked smile, Fantine remembered. He brushed his fingers down her cheek, and she tried not to shudder. How many girls had he lured in this way?

"Come on, then." she took his hand and began to lead him away. Why was she doing this? Did she think it some kind of revenge? She certainly had no desire to see him naked again, nor did she want his body anywhere near hers.

But he did not recognize her. She had to use that to her advantage.

"What's your price?" he asked again.

"Fifteen francs," she said, "For thirty, I'll do it twice."

The man stopped walking.

"Good God, Madame! Fifteen francs to lie about in filth? For the same I could visit a brothel and have a comfortable time of it!"

He dropped her hand.

"True," said Fantine, attempting to rub the dirt off her face, "But this way, not only are you serving yourself, but humanity. I, too, have to eat." And so does Cosette, she added silently.

"But," she said with a theatrical shrug, "What can you do? I must find someone else."

She began to slink away from him. She was not a yard away, when he stopped her.

"Wait! Fine, I will pay." She turned around, and he took her hands, giving her a look that failed to be sympathetic, "I'm always ready to help my fellow man."

He reached up and toyed with the dirty hair that stuck out from under her shawl.

She led him to her room. It was a tiny space, furnished only by a mattress stuffed with wet straw on the floor. The door did not shut until she moved a rock she kept in a corner in front of it.

Fantine untied her shall and tossed it aside, revealing her chopped, dirty hair.

"Now," said the man, "I want it long and slow." He reached in for a kiss, but she pulled away.

"I want it in advance."

"What?"

"The money. I want it in advance."

"Surely you are joking. "

"I am not."

The man paused. For a moment, Fantine thought she'd lost him, but he reached into his pocket and handed to her what was not money, but another month of her child's life.

The affair of the money taken care of, he reached forward and ran his hands through her hair.

"The colour is pretty. It reminds me of someone I once knew."

"Oh?" said Fantine, cocking her head.

"She was a pretty girl, this mistress. It nearly hurt to leave her. I wonder," he drew closer, "what happened to her?"

Fantine shuddered slightly as his lips met hers.

"Shy, are we?"

She turned her face away.

"You never were shy with me, Mademoiselle Fantine," he said.

She whipped her head around to stare at him in shock.

"You didn't think I'd recognize you? God, Fantine, you sleep with a girl a summer and you get to know her looks."

She did not answer. She did not trust herself to speak.

"A shame. You used to be so pretty."

"Look," said Fantine, "Why did you come to me?"

"As a joke, I suppose. I didn't think you'd know me. I wanted to tell you after the fact."

"Of course I knew," she said with a sneer, her temper mounting, "After all, you sleep with a man a summer, you get to know his looks. You haven't changed a bit, Félix! You look just the same as you did then. You come to gloat, to see what you've made me? Well, this is what's happened to me, Félix. Laugh away, it can't bother me anymore!"

"I haven't come to laugh."

She didn't respond.

"I've come for you."

He bent forward and kissed her, more roughly than he ever had before, and lowered her onto the damp mattress.

Two hours later, he left her thirty francs richer. She never saw him again.


End file.
